Captain America Prompts
by Fiercelyyours
Summary: Here you will find my short stories as prompted by readers and from prompts I find in forums. PM me if you have a prompt idea!
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt Type: Song prompt "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice**

 _This prompt comes from the Captain America Fanfic Challenge Forum. I was given this song to base a story off of. This rather abstract song talks about the feeling of cheating, of having feelings for another and your heart being like "a loaded gun." Have a listen and feel free to review and let me know how you think I did!_

Steve Rogers sat with his forehead pressed into his hands, leaning forward over the pew in front of him. Images of Peggy passed painfully through his mind; Images of her when she was young and vibrant, of when she was old and wise, and finally today, her peaceful face in the open casket. He had managed to make it through the ceremony, accepting condolences as though he had been someone of importance in Peggy's life, bearing the precious weight of her casket. He had loved her, to be sure, but he had let her down. Ultimately she had sought love and support elsewhere, after all, he had given her no choice. Duty over love, that had been his choice. Now, alone in the Church, the weight of his grief was crushing him. He had avoided reminiscing about their past for so long, what good could it do? Now his mind dragged him through the memories, ripping open old wounds that had been sealed for some time.

The force of his emotion shocked him. He had been able to come to terms with the idea that Peggy had married Daniel Sousa, had borne him two beautiful children. He had sat with her and explained to her over and over that he had returned, had watched her joy again and again as she relived her relief that he was alive, all while knowing she would soon forget him again. He had seen her love for him rekindle in her aged eyes, still so warm and kind, but it had never felt like this; had never hurt quite like this. He sat back abruptly in his pew, hands pulling over his face. He met the gaze of Peggy's portrait still standing at the altar, her expression knowing, a twinkle in her eye. In his mind's eye he watched as he stood next to her, both of them standing in the church surrounded by family and friends, Peggy radiant in her wedding gown. He lifted her veil and reverently touched her face. She smiled, her teeth so white against her crimson lips, and leaned forward for the kiss.

"Steve?" A small voice at the back of the Church made Steve's heart lurch. For a moment, just one blessed moment, he thought that sweet feminine voice belonged to Peggy. He turned around quickly to find Natasha, looking uncertain for once in her life, and walking down the aisle to meet him. He watched her come in a daze, his mind pulling up memories of a different kiss, one that had been unexpected, but powerful. She watched him as she continued to walk the long aisle, her expression cautious. He should have known she would come, they had grown so close in the years they had worked together. He trusted her, to the surprise of many on the team, and she in return always had his back. Exhausted and grief stricken, he watched her come closer, his mind transferring his previous thoughts onto Natasha. As she came up the aisle, he saw her in a wedding dress, reaching out her hand for his, and his traitorous heart flipped in his chest. Quickly he turned around and looked back towards Peggy. Guilt knifed through him as he met her gaze, and he put his head back in his hands, gritting his teeth against it.

When Natasha reached him she stood next to him silently for a moment, gazing at Peggy's portrait. She had been the kind of woman that most could only hope to be; strong, morally unassailable, kind and loving. Natasha looked at Steve's hunched form and felt her heart start to crack. She should have known better than to fall for him. He deserved a woman like Peggy. Still, she couldn't keep herself from hoping, foolishly she knew, that Steve might find some solace in her. She took a deep breath and placed her hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

Steve sat up slowly and put his hand over hers, silent for a moment.

"What are you doing here?"

She looked at her feet, considering her answer. Deciding to be truthful she answered, "I didn't want you to be alone."

Steve looked up at her, their eyes meeting. She was so different from Peggy. Her green eyes and red hair bore no similarities to his first love. She was sharp where Peggy had been soft, dark where Peggy had been light. Yet there were so many similarities, so many qualities about Natasha that made him want to love her. He could see Natasha and Peggy, had they ever met, being excellent partners in crime, both sharp shooters, both fiercely loyal. Their quick wit and tough love were so similar, it made him smile. Natasha saw it and gave him a questioning look. He shook his head, quickly wiping the smile off his face. He couldn't do this. Natasha's past had only shown her that men could not be trusted. She deserved a man who would have love only for her. Steve was so tied up in Peggy, that he doubted he would ever truly be able to love again with his whole heart. And a whole heart is what Natasha deserved. To hand Natasha his heart while it was full of love for another would be like handing her a loaded gun, one that could only harm Natasha herself. He wouldn't do that to her. She deserved so much better than that.

Steve stood, "Thanks for coming out here. I'm going to be ok." Natasha looked up at him, taking in his disheveled appearance and the grief lining his face. "You will be, but you aren't right now, and that's ok." Seeing his expression, Natasha opened her arms to him, and Steve couldn't help but to accept the invitation. He wrapped his arms around her, so grateful for the contact, for the comfort her small body offered him. He pulled her tight for a moment, then opened his eyes. Peggy still stared knowingly at him over Natasha's shoulder, and he pulled away quickly. He ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, still staring at the photograph. Natasha looked between Steve and the picture, sensing Steve's thoughts. She could not keep the hurt off of her face, despite knowing how he was hurting, knowing it was unfair of her to expect more from him before Peggy had even been buried. She swallowed. She would never be a woman like Peggy, but she knew one who was.

"Are you going to the cemetery?" Natasha asked, knowing the answer.

"No. I just… I can't bear it."

"I know, Sharon either. She's actually just outside. It would be good of you to walk her back to her hotel Steve. You both need company, and I have to go." Natasha had shifted into spy mode, her expressions not betraying her true feelings. Steve looked at her, sensing he was missing something, but she simply gave him a soft smile. Giving his hand a squeeze she looked one last time at Peggy, and then back to Steve.

"Don't keep her waiting too long." Natasha turned and walked resolutely out the door. Steve watched her go, a feeling of Deja Vu coming over him. He sat down and looked at his hands, knowing that he was experiencing a defining moment, but uncertain what to do. Going after Natasha was out of the question, he would only hurt her. Spending time with Sharon, a woman with Peggy Carter's blood running through her veins made his heart sore. Looking up towards the altar he sighed.

"I'm just going to stay here with you for a while Peg. Is that alright?"


	2. Cognitive Recalibration

**Here is another prompt from the Captain America Fanfic Forum! This time it's a plot prompt: "You swung the door open in my face so I knocked out, now I'm awake and I hear you outside the nurses' office asking if I'm okay"**

Natasha Romanoff's bare feet swung back and forth from the swing on the garden terrace of the new Avengers building in Wakanda. As the gentle sun warmed her face, Natasha flipped the page of the book she was reading, completely absorbed. The sound of a text message pulled her from the story, and she reached for her phone. It was from Clint, "Where are you?" She grinned and quickly typed back, "I thought you could see everything HAWKEYE."

"Don't be a smartass. What are you doing? Nobody can find you."

"I'm reading this book, 'The Hunger Games.' There's this girl named Katniss who has your superpower. I bet she could find me."

"My abilities are way more sophisticated than Katniss thank you very much."

"Is that why you can't find me?"

"That's it. I'm coming for you. You can run… but I see everything."

Natasha laughed and grabbed her book and her phone, taking off to find a less obvious hiding place. Launching herself into the thick branches of a nearby tree, she climbed higher until she reached a sturdy branch with a good view. Clint knew she liked to read on this terrace, he would look here first.

Sure enough, after only a few minutes of waiting Clint pushed open the door that led to the terrace. Natasha remained statue still as he scanned the area for her. When his back was turned Natasha stealthily snapped a picture of him through the branches and quickly sent it to Laura, "Your genius husband trying to 'Hawkeye' me. My how the tables have turned." Natasha watched as Cint headed towards the back stairs and disappeared down them. She dropped from her perch in the tree and chuckled to herself, she knew exactly where those stairs led out, and there was another way to get there. Running to beat him she snorted as she imagined the look on his face when she surprised him.

Turning the corner she grasped the doorknob and burst through it triumphant, "HA!" But her entrance was impeded by something in the doorway. The edge of the door hit it with a loud thud, followed by a louder crash. When Natasha stepped through to investigate, Clint lay unconscious on the ground.

When Clint finally came to, he was lying on a hospital bed in the nurses wing of the Avengers building. He moaned and felt his head, a large bump was forming where he had run into the door. Hearing voices outside he listened, "Where are they? Is he ok?" Steve's voice sounded concerned. Soon the nurse ushered him into the room.

"Nat is he ok?"

Clint squinted over at the corner where Steve was looking and found Natasha reading in a chair nearby. She looked up as Steve entered, "He's fine," she said with a grin. Clint groaned, "Nat what did you do?"

She looked at him seriously, "Cognitive recalibration Clint. Your super power wasn't working so I had to reboot the system."

Clint blinked at her, "I hate you."

Natasha laughed, "Just looking out for you my friend." Holding up her phone she snapped a picture.

"What are you doing?"

Natasha grinned at her screen as she texted and responded, "Laura wants a play by play, she is loving this."

Clint sat up, "Natasha!"

Natasha laughed and scurried from the room.


	3. Lessons from the Red Room

**This prompt is based off this quote: "The measure of intelligence is the ability to change." Albert Einstein**

 _Thirteen year old Natalia Romanoff sat with her classmates in silence, waiting for the teacher to arrive and begin their lesson. No one dared to speak, the strict rules of the Red Room were very sternly enforced. The sharp clicks of a woman's footsteps sounded in the hallway outside the room, and Natalia repressed a shudder of dread. Darya Sokolov was every Red Room Trainee's worst nightmare. Ruthless, merciless, and unrelenting, she pressed each of them to their limits, and occasionally beyond. She had taken special notice of Natalia, acting as her personal mentor, something that Natalia resented immensely. It meant she was pushed harder than the other girls, given more difficult drills and was punished more often for her failures. The backs of her legs smarted from where Sokolov had struck them with her riding crop earlier that morning; her kicks had not been high enough for Darya's liking._

 _As Sokolov stalked her way to the front of the room, Natalia's warning bells went off. Her teacher looked furious, her lips pressed into a thin line. Every other time she had seen that look, one of them had been beaten. Natalia looked down at her notebook, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The sound of a teaching pointer being whipped across the chalkboard made her jump. She glanced up._

" _As your graduation ceremony comes closer, it is imperative that you are prepared to be sent undercover on missions. You will need to be in complete control of yourself, your emotions, and how other people see you. There is no truth except the one you create. Is that understood?"_

 _As one the class answered, "Yes Madame Sokolov."_

 _Darya Sokolov gestured to the board where a quote was written out in chalk, "The measure of intelligence is the ability to change."_

" _Who can tell me what this means?" She gazed around, but no one dared to raise their hand. Her sharp green eyes flickered to Natalia, who kept her gaze resolutely down._

 _Natalia listened as the heel clicks got louder and louder, then slowed right in front of her desk. Natalia shivered._

" _Natalia. You will answer this question." Natalia stood and looked at the quote on the board and then back at her instructor._

" _It means that if you're smart, you will adapt." Darya's eyes narrowed as she looked at Natalia._

" _Tell me Ms. Romanoff, when is it acceptable to be afraid?"_

" _Never," came the often rehearsed reply._

" _And when is it acceptable to appear afraid?"_

" _When it benefits your mission."_

 _Sokolov bent down so she was looking Natalia directly in the face, "And are you afraid of me?"_

 _Natalia's temper flared at the unfairness of the question. If she said yes, she would be breaking the rules by admitting fear, but if she said no, Darya would be certain to rise to the challenge. She looked into Darya's eyes, as green as a snake, and realized she would need to be as cunning as her teacher if she was going to survive._

" _I recognize your superiority Madame, and do not take for granted your strengths," Natalia allowed a small smile to play over her lips, "But a Black Widow is not capable of fear."_

 _Madame Sokolov regarded her for a moment, a feral smile growing gradually across her face. Natalia met her gaze steadily, using all her willpower to do so._

" _A well crafted reply," said Sokolov. Suddenly she swung out at Natalia and backhanded her forcefully. Natalia fell across the desk of her classmate. Sokolov grasped her face painfully, forcing her to look at her and she whispered, "But you are not a Black Widow yet."_

Steve could not keep a look of revulsion and anger off his face, "Natasha… How do you overcome a childhood like that?"

Natasha shrugged and snuggled in closer to him on the couch, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"I never forgot that lesson. It was dual, first, being able to adapt quickly to any situation, and second, that sometimes even your best efforts end in pain. But you can always overcome."

Looking up at him she said thoughtfully, "There are lessons that I took from there that they never intended. Even from that quote."

"The measure of intelligence is the ability to change," Steve supplied. "What did you learn from it?"

"When I hit bottom, and Clint brought me into Shield, I had a lot of time in my cell to consider what I would do. Would I remain loyal? Or would I take this chance to become someone I never imagined I could be? We were all made to believe that there was no kindness in the world, that the only truth was the one you created for yourself. But that quote stuck with me. I changed. I discovered a whole world outside of the KGB, ironically, by following what I was taught there. I guess that backfired on them."

Steve pressed a kiss to her temple, "The more I learn about you the more remarkable you become." Natasha shivered and pulled a blanket over them both, "I couldn't be happier that I am free of them." She tilted her head back to look at him for a minute, a sleepy smile on her face.

"What?" Asked Steve looking back at her.

Natasha let her eyes roam over every inch of his face, "If I told my thirteen year old self what the future would hold I would have probably tried to beat me up."

Steve laughed, "There's an image. Why?"

"Because it would have sounded like an incredibly naive fairy tale. Something someone made up to cause me pain."

He squeezed her tightly, "My thirteen year old self would have needed his inhaler if he ever got a glimpse of you."

Natasha laughed and snuggled her head under his chin.


	4. Steve's Promise

**Another Captain America Fanfiction Challenge Forum Prompt. This one is a dialogue prompt: "You know that you don't have to go through this on your own, right? I'll be there if you need me."**

 **Guys… I hurt my own feels with this one… Fair warning.**

It was May of 1945, mere weeks after Captain America had crashed the Valkerie into the ice. The war was over, and celebrations erupted on every street corner in New York city. Peggy Carter sat in her apartment, gazing out the window, her face finally revealing the oceans of emotion that battled inside her after a day spent smiling grimly for the cameras. She knew she should be happy, but she couldn't summon the feeling. Her mood was never more evident than when she posed for yet another picture with Howard Stark and he had tried to kiss her. She hauled off and punched him, and he fell over backwards into the fountain behind them. That's when she knew she needed to just call it a night.

She touched her lips remembering Steve's kiss, the very last time she ever saw him. There had been very few men that she kissed in her life. Steve should have been the last one. She put her head in her hands. Steve should have been here to see them win the war. He deserved it more than anyone. A firework went off and Peggy startled, then stalked away from the window angrily.

She sat heavily in her arm chair and switched on the radio so that it was blaring. She didn't care what played, so long as the sound of celebration from outside was successfully blocked out. She thought briefly about tidying up her flat, but for what? No one would be stopping by. Anyone she had befriended in the Army was sent home all over the country. They were probably still fishing Howard out of the fountain. And Steve was dead. Peggy felt numb. Leaning back in her chair she let her mind wander to the past...

 _Steve Rogers looked up from under his tent in time to see Agent Peggy Carter burst from under the Officer's tent, her expression positively livid, her face ashen. It was pouring down rain, her boots squelched in the thick mud as she walked and she was quickly becoming soaked through but she didn't seem to notice. She glanced at him as she stalked past him and he caught her eye, but quickly looked down. He knew that look, it was the look of someone who believed themselves to be completely and utterly alone._

 _Peggy threw back the flap of her green army tent and ducked inside. She sat herself on her cot and put her face in her hands. She knew she only had a few moments to herself to deal with what she had just been told. The men could never see her cry. She was at enough of a disadvantage as it was. She clenched the edge of her cot so hard that her knuckles turned white, and tears spilled down her cheeks rapidly as she held back sobs that threatened to overtake her. She stood and pulled her fingers through her hair, her eyes clenched shut._

"' _Agent Carter?"_

 _Peggy's eyes flew open and she whipped around to face the back of the tent, away from the sudden intruder. She cursed under her breath. He had seen her. Steve stood frozen in the doorway, his courage failing him in the presence of female tears. The rain began to pool around his feet._

" _Oh for heaven's sake Steve come in! You're letting the rain inside!" Steve stepped in, wishing that a hole would open in the ground and swallow him up. Peggy roughly wiped her eyes and looked at him, her expression so fierce that Steve was certain he could feel it burning into his soul._

" _What do you need Captain?"_

 _Steve opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for what felt like a full minute. Peggy stared at him._

" _I- I just- Well I noticed you seemed upset and I just wanted to see-"_

" _Yes thank you Captain but I assure you I am perfectly capable of handling my emotions on my own. If that will be all?" She gestured towards the door. Steve frowned, irked by her sharpness and her tone._

" _Peggy I don't care that you're crying, I just came over here to see if you're alright. You have nothing to be ashamed of."_

 _Peggy bit back a sharp retort, losing her temper was worse than tears. If she started screaming at him now he would never respect her. She struggled for something to say to make him leave that wasn't rude or emotional, but she couldn't. She just stared at him, clearly at war with herself._

 _Steve's expression softened, "Do you want to talk about it?"_

 _Peggy's eyes burned with tears that she was fighting so hard to control. She sat down again on her cot and turned her face away from him. "My mother died. Two weeks ago. I didn't even know she was ill. And those bastard only just got me the information. She's been dead for two weeks."_

 _Tears streamed down her face, but she kept it turned resolutely away. She felt Steve sit on the cot next to her. He didn't say anything for a while, just let her compose herself._

" _I lost my mom right before the war. I know how painful this must be for you." Peggy didn't say anything, just nodded and wiped her face on her sleeve. Steve hesitated, then put his hand on her shoulder._

" _You know that you don't have to go through this on your own, right? I'll be there if you need me."_

 _Finally, Peggy looked at him, and Steve's heart constricted to see her face stained with tears. She gave him the saddest smile he had ever seen, "Thank you Steve. That really does mean a lot."_

Peggy came back to reality as she sat staring at the flames licking the logs in her fireplace. More fireworks went off outside her window, and cheering overpowered her radio. She looked slowly around her empty apartment, and burst into tears.


	5. We'll Live Until We Die

**This prompt is from dreamhaunter06. Thanks for the idea! "You told me you trusted me to save your life." Where Natasha gets badly injured on a mission protecting Steve.**

Steve Rogers kicked open the door of the Shield safehouse with a thud, Natasha Romanoff sagging in his arms. He set her down gingerly on a table, put a pillow under her head and raced to lock the place down, ignoring the pain of his own wounds with effort. Steve punched in the code and all the doors and windows slid shut with a hiss.

Natasha's face was contorted with pain, her hands pressed to the bullet wound in her low back. She focused on breathing, in and out, in and out, until she felt she had regained some measure of control over herself. Steve was soon at her side again, anxiety all over his face. "Nat there's no anesthetic…"

Natasha shook her head, her eyes closed, "Don't need it. Just get the bullet out."

Steve gently removed her hands from where they clasped her wound and gently helped her roll to her stomach so he could look at the point of entry. He shook his head, carefully helping her remove her leather jacket, now stained with blood, and rolled her shirt up to her shoulder blades.

Steve swallowed hard, watching as the blood pooled slowly into the small of her back and down the valley of her spine. He glanced at her face, fear in his eyes. She looked at him steadily, her cheek resting on the pillow, "Just do it." She turned her face away from him and closed her eyes. Using the limited first aid kit he had found, he took out the tweezers. Natasha braced herself for the pain. It hit her like a freight train, and she bit her hand to stifle a scream. The sound of it frayed Steve's nerves and tore at his heart, but he didn't hesitate. He quickly removed the bullet and cleaned the wound, watching the rise and fall of Natasha's breathing to steady himself. He paused a moment to collect himself, his hand on her back. Natasha glanced back at him, his eyes were closed and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. She chuckled weakly, pushing past the pain, "Steve relax, it's not so bad." She looked down at wound and grimaced, "Add another scar to the collection I guess. I feel like I should name them."

Steve looked up at her sharply, clearly not in the joking mood. He didn't respond, simply beginning to stitch the wound closed. Natasha winced and put her face back in the pillow until it was over. Finally, Steve helped her sit up so he could wrap the bandage around her. He looked up at her, his expression still tense.

"That was a really stupid thing you did back there. What on earth got into you Nat? Do you have a death wish?"

Natasha shrugged, "Some days are worse than others." Steve looked up at her angrily, "No this is not a joke Nat. What the hell were you thinking jumping right into the line of fire like that? Have you lost your mind? Or did you just miss that day in training where they teach you to avoid getting shot?" He tightened the bandage and she flinched.

Natasha glared at him, "Don't pretend like you don't know why I did what I did. You didn't see the shooter behind you in time, and I was out of ammo. He was going to shoot you. I stopped him."

Steve stood and started pacing in frustration, Natasha's eyes following him. She flushed with temper, "You're telling me that in reversed positions you wouldn't have done the same thing?"

Steve stopped and burst out, " Well of course I would have! I can take a bullet Natasha. I don't need you acting like my shield, I have one of those already."

Natasha swung her feet over the edge of the table, angry "I can take a bullet too Steve," she retorted gesturing to her bandage, "You aren't the only one with some war experience in this room. I'll thank you to remember that. You may be the world's first superhero, but you aren't invincible, and you need to quit acting like it before it gets you killed!"

Steve turned sharply, about to respond but he flinched, blood seeping through his uniform. Natasha gingerly slipped off the table and went to him. Taking him by the shoulder she steered him to the couch.

"Natasha I'm fine," Steve said through gritted teeth, "I heal quickly, and you shouldn't be moving around."

"Would you shut the hell up and let me help you? For God's sake Rogers."

Natasha made him sit on the floor in front of the couch so she could reach his back, torn in several places from shrapnel. She peeled off the top of his uniform with gentle fingers, shaking her head at the open wounds along his back. She fumbled through the first aid kit for some clean cloth and ointment and started cleaning his wounds. Steve was silent, knowing that arguing would only provoke her. He sighed and closed his eyes as she worked, sorting through the strange mixture of pain and pleasure at her touch.

"Turn so I can get your side."

"Nat I can do it."

"I want to do it."

"Nat-" He stopped short at the look of fury on her face. He turned to the side. Natasha continued her work in silence, making her way around to the cuts and bruises on his chest and arms. Steve watched her as she worked, her eyes intent on what she was doing. Finally she spoke, still not looking at him.

"You once told me that you trusted me to save your life when it was on the line. Was that true?"

Steve's conscience smote him, "You know it was true."

"Today I proved to you that I would do what was necessary to protect you when you needed it. I finally had the opportunity to be a good partner to you, and you're angry with me. Why?"

Steve sighed, "Nat will you please look at me?"

Reluctantly Natasha glanced up at him, and he could see the hurt there. He looked at her a moment more, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He sighed, "Because taking a bullet hurts a lot less than losing you would."

Natasha stared at him, her work forgotten, "What?"

Steve struggled to find words, embarrassed, "I just… I don't want you searching for ways to prove to me that you would put yourself in harms way to protect me if the situation called for it. You have proved it already. I know I'm being one sided and it isn't fair but… That's how I feel. Nat I… I just can't lose you. I've lost too many people already."

Natasha was suddenly very conscious of her hands on his bare chest. She met his gaze and let it linger a little too long. Like two magnets, they cautiously drew together. Steve's lips barely brushed hers, hesitant, but Natasha leaned in, pressing her lips to his. Closing his eyes he breathed her in, soaking in every sensation. She was so alive when she had come so close to seeing death. He reached for her and pulled her in closer, forgetting about her wound. Natasha pulled away quickly with a sharp intake of breath, wincing.

"Nat I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking."

Natasha took a second to let the pain subside, then glanced up at him with a sad smile, "Me either." She let her eyes roam for a moment over their surroundings in the old safehouse. Weapons were stashed in a cupboard by the door, blood still stained the table where she had lain.

"Steve, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"We can't put ourselves through this again and again. People in our line of work don't grow old together. And of the two of us, I'm the one who can't survive 67 years in the ice. Odds are-"

Steve cut her off, "Don't. I don't want to hear it."

Natasha looked at him sadly, "How many bullets can I take until one hits me just right? We can't do this. It will only lead to pain. Probably yours."

Steve shook his head, "That's such a bleak view Nat. I see what you're saying but I'm not sure I want to live that way." He took her hands, "You were right, I'm not invincible, neither of us are. But we don't have to die yet! We have been given another day, another hour. Let's live."

Natasha looked into his eyes, uncertain, "The odds are stacked against us Rogers."

"When has that ever stopped us before?"

A smile spread slowly across her face but she checked herself, "I am not at all convinced."

Steve gave her a mischievous smile, "Let me convince you." Carefully, Steve pulled Natasha close again, avoiding her wound, and kissed her until she forgot her objections. Her mind buzzed pleasantly and she melted into his embrace, feeling truly safe for the first time in forever. Pulling away he looked at her, his hand on her face, "Convinced yet?"

"Mmm almost. I'm a tough sell Rogers, you'll need to be pretty persuasive." He laughed and kissed her again, the taste of her smile on his lips. She pressed her forehead to his and breathed deeply, "Alright Steve, I'm in. Let's live until we die."


	6. Underestimation

This is a dialogue prompt from the Captain America Forum. Long overdue!

"Admit it, you just like strapping on a gun!" / "More than one."

Natasha stared out the window of her room in Stark Tower, her brows pulled together moodily, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. The sound of a light knock on her door made her turn to look, and Steve's head poked in hesitantly.

"Steve no, I don't want to talk about it."

"Nat at least let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. You're doing exactly what I was afraid you would do, mixing work and relationships. You kept me off that mission because you're afraid I'll get hurt, even though I'm perfect for the job."

Steve sighed, "Nat, you're perfect for almost every job! Just not this one is a little close to home for you..." He reached out to take her hand but she yanked it away, her eyes blazing.

"Compliments and affection mean nothing to me if you can't come to terms with who I am. We're supposed to be a team. You don't get to decide how my life will go."

"Nat I can't let you go. Ivan would see you coming a mile away!"

"Get out of here Steve. Leave me be." Natasha turned back to her window. Steve stared at her back, her shoulders tensed.

"Nat…"

"GET. OUT."

Steve sighed, running his hand over his forehead, "Ok. We can talk later." He turned to go, his eyes cast down. A black strap sticking out from Natasha's closet made him pause with a frown. Slowly he turned the handle, anger flooding his face. He seized the strap, hauling Natasha's tactical bag, fully packed, into view. The sound of a gun cocking made Steve whirl towards the sound, only to find himself staring down the barrel of Natasha's gun.

"Drop the bag." Natasha's voice was low and dangerous.

Steve stared at her in disbelief, "You were never going to stay, no matter what I said."

Natasha looked pained, "Of course not Steve. Ivan is responsible for the death of my parents, for all the pain I went through growing up. I won't sit at home as others bring him down. My face will be the last one he sees. Now drop the bag."

"Natasha please."

"Give it to me!"

Steve slowly handed her the bag, and Natasha reached cautiously to take it. With blinding speed, Steve disarmed her, twisting the gun out of her grip and tossing it aside, her wrists securely locked in his grip.

"You are not thinking clearly Natasha, every Russian Agent out there is watching for you. You will get nowhere near Ivan, and you'll put yourself and our team in danger. I can't let you go."

Natasha yanked at his grip, furious, "You underestimate me. That's a serious mistake."

"I don't! I just care about your safety!" Natasha twisted out of his grip and swept his feet out from beneath him, lunging for the gun Steve had tossed. He scrambled across the floor and reached for it, but she got there first, pointing it at him. He lay back on his elbows, staring at her imploringly.

"Are you going to shoot me?"

"Not if you don't get in my way. Don't make this harder Steve. Just let me go."

Steve stood, and positioned himself between Natasha and the door, his face flushed with anger. Natasha cocked the gun.

"Don't test me Steve, I don't have to kill you, and you heal fast. But pain is pain, even for you." Steve's blue eyes glinted like ice, but he dropped his hands to his sides.

"Ok, go." Natasha's eyes narrowed, and she waved him away from the door with the gun barrel. Steve stepped aside slightly, and Natasha hitched her bag more snugly onto her back. She edged towards him, never taking her eyes off him. Just as she was about to pass him, his arm flashed out and he pinned her gun hand safely to his side. He whispered into her face fiercely, "Admit it, you just like strapping on a gun." She looked up into his face, her expression a mixture of determination and sadness. "More than one."

The cold muzzle of Natasha's second gun pressed into Steve's side, and with a pop, Steve fell heavily to the floor.

Natasha looked down at him for a moment, watching him try to overcome the pain. He pressed his forehead into the floor, his eyes shut as he clutched his side, his breathing coming erratically. Her conscience smote her, but she stuffed it away and stepped over him.

"I told you," she said to him sadly, "You underestimate me." She leaned down to touch his cheek briefly, "Heal well. I'll be back, I promise."


End file.
